


(we've got your) Six Shooters

by pchberrytea



Series: We've Got Your Six [2]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Multi, Silly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-01-25 21:55:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21363274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pchberrytea/pseuds/pchberrytea
Summary: Silly, self-indulgent little oneshots that sorta occur within We've Got Your Six. Mostly dumb shit, but hey. We can all pretend these are just exercises in characterization.Not updated regularly, just fluff n' stuff that results from me being too stubborn to work on the storylines I should be working on.
Relationships: Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor, Scribe Haylen/Knight Rhys (Fallout)
Series: We've Got Your Six [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1540135
Comments: 38
Kudos: 42





	1. Showtime

7 A.M. 

Or, 0700 hours if you’re into that crap. 

Carter was still supposed to be in for a little while after crashing here in the station the night before, and Haylen was probably up and doing something boring and scribely already anyway. 

_ But _ it was 7 A.M., and Knight Amelie Broussard would be damned if the other knight was going to leave without the three of them getting up to something. And no, it wasn’t just going to be them all shooting the shit over a Nuka-Cola. Amelie had an ace up her sleeve, and she wanted to see the look on Diana Carter’s face when the card got played. 

The knight rolled out of her cot and stretched before bouncing through the sleeping quarters on one leg, trying to get that damned left boot on her foot. She found something shiny, something interesting, something sooooo soso useful laying nice and neat in one of the storage lockers that now lined the walls of the sleeping quarters. 

_ Ooh. Score. These’ll come in handy. _

“Hey, Walker! I’m taking these!” she called back to the Knight-Sergeant. That jackass was already posted up in the interrogation room, writing something out on the terminal in there. Dark, ashy eyes peered over at her from the screen. 

“Taking what?” 

Who knew if Warden Walker even needed these. 

“I’m borrowing your shades!” she waved them in the air for him to see. “Don’t worry princess, I’ll bring ‘em back!” 

“Broussard!” 

_ Heh, sucker._ That little pet name was going to get under his skin and he wasn’t going to do shit about it, and definitely not if she threw a hair flip and batted her eyelashes back in his direction. He deserved to have his feathers rustled a tiny bit, the uptight sumbitch. 

Haylen and Carter were kicking back at the tables in the main room, gabbing about who-knows-what, but _ it was 7 A.M. _

“Here.” She tossed the sunglasses on the table in front of Carter, pulling her own out of her pocket and placing them on her face. A conveniently placed bottle of whiskey was still laying around and open, so Amelie climbed up on a chair and onto her tiptoes to grab the ladies a couple of shot glasses from the cabinets above while they looked on, puzzled. 

“A little early, don’t you think?” Haylen asked dryly. Broussard flipped her pair of glasses down her nose to peer over them at Haylen. 

_ “__No.” _

“Well what are we celebrating so early? You blow up an entire mutant hive on your own last night or something?” Carter quipped. 

_ Or something, and you’re wearing his glasses. I’m keeping my mouth shut about that for now. _

“Diana Carter, you beautiful, angelic, inquisitive little soul. Drink up. You’re off duty for a couple more hours, and we have a show to catch.” Amelie flashed a devilish grin at the two sidekicks she'd recruited for her spontaneous little mission. 

At least Diana usually rolled with the punches, even if she looked a teensy bit skeptical. 

“_Mmm__, _gotcha. Take your shot, Di. You haven’t been here since Rhys scouted out that gym.” _Yes! _Haylen had picked up the hints that Amelie was laying down and boarded the train. The three were off – stomping up the stairs and out into the warm sunlight on the police station roof. 

Before Diana could catch on and jet out, Broussard had her parked front and center where she could see the training yard below. Haylen leaned in and nudged her ribs, “Rhys found this old boxing gym a couple of weeks ago, these guys spent like two days hauling all of this here.” 

7 A.M. was prime-time at Cambridge Police Station, the best time of day to find a bunch of shirtless or near-shirtless knights lifting weights in the yard. Usually Amelie was down there with them and doing her own training, but she’d noticed that Danse had gone out with the rest of them earlier and she was going to catch Carter out. 

“Oh my_ god,” _ Carter breathed, _“ _ I need another shot." 

The statement had Amelie and Haylen both smirking, and she passed Carter the whole bottle that she’d had the sense to bring up with them. 

“_Right?! _ Now put your shades on, Carter, you’re making this way too obvious. _ ” _

“Broussard?” the knight asked. 

“Carter?” 

“I don’t think there’s a way to be subtle about this.” 

“That’s what the whiskey was for, babe.” 

Diana was right, there was absolutely nothing subtle about the three stationing themselves on the roof and leaning over the safety railings. The yard was in plain view, and there wasn’t anything else for them to be checking out on this side of the roof. 

Rhys caught them first, stopping to smirk at Haylen and put on a show for her. _Those _two would definitely be sneaking off later, which Amelie found both disgusting and adorable. Who knows, maybe Amelie would bother to stick with someone eventually, if she could find someone that treated her like the damn warrior queen she was. The guard from Diamond City had treated her that way, and while that fling was fun, it certainly wasn’t ever going to last. 

Walker...wasn’t so bad. Not since he’d been bitched at by Danse, and when there wasn’t a stick planted firmly up his ass... 

She wasn’t up here to think about the man downstairs in the interrogation room, though. She was up here to enjoy the view, and to study Carter. There were caps on the line. 

Amelie gave Diana a little bit of credit. She’d at least_ tried _ to ignore Danse doing bench presses, but she didn’t hold out for very long. Not that Broussard could blame the woman, that right there on the bench was a little over a decade of Brotherhood of Steel service. _ Diligent _ brotherhood service, with his tank still on and clinging to him from the sweat, jumpsuit arms tied around his waist. Glistening in the sunlight like some sort of damn romance novel would describe. 

No, Amelie did not blame Diana one bit. Too bad the Paladin was so oblivious, gauging his reaction could give Amelie a serious tactical advantage. 

_ Got it! _

Broussard nudged Haylen in the ribs and gave her a little wink. Danse was just about to finish up his set, she figured, and with Diana pretty much staring at the man now was her chance. 

She put her fingers in her mouth and gave her best wolf-whistle to the crowd below while Haylen laughed beside her. 

Rhys grinned and shook his head while Howe and Jackson gave the ladies a salute, and Rodriguez’s crusty old ass decided to wave. 

It took the Paladin a second to gather what was going on, mostly because he otherwise would have dropped the bar, but he looked up, too. The man looked straight at Carter, who was biting her damn lip and had nowhere at all to run, and the man... 

Blushed. Rather-fucking-profusely, before running his fingers through his hair and turning away, trying his damnedest to hide it. 

Yep. That’s all the info that Amelie needed. Oh, she was _cackling_ at Diana and Danse now. 

“Rodriguez!” she barked down at the yard. 

“Broussard!” he called back. 

“75!” 

Those in the know would know_ exactly _how much she’d just raised her bet, and if Carter asked, she’d just make something up about betting on how much she could lift or whatever. 

She had caps to win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so, I'm starting to collect all of this other random fluff and stuff in a folder and it's just sitting there being enjoyed by absolutely nobody and gathering dust.
> 
> Have a POV of one of my OC's that I've never written for in Six, but that I love desperately. I should be updating the big story in a few days.


	2. Lessons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Danse tries his hand at flirting.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen Ingram let someone use tools from her personal kit, Morgan.” 

Danse eyed the lancer suspiciously from behind armor bay 4, where he’d spent the better part of his day off duty toying with the actuators in the right arm of his suit. He was aware that Ingram was rather fond of both of the Morgan boys, but how fond was she, really? 

“I have permission, if that’s what you mean, Paladin.” 

“How in the world did you manage that?” 

“Has the thought ever occurred to you to try a bit of harmless flirtin'?” Morgan asked the man, wiping the grease off of a wrench before he placed it back in Proctor Ingram’s toolbox. Danse wiped the sweat off of his own brow, deciding it was finally time to call it a day. It had been an arduous task, but at least he’d gotten the arm to stop sticking. 

Flirting for his own personal gain? No, that wasn’t his style, and it seemed misleading. 

“Isn’t that just considered using someone?” 

The clank of mechanical arms folding in disapproval behind him diverted his attention from the young lancer. 

“Hmph, hardly. Do I come across as the type of person that gets used, Danse?” 

Oh. Ingram was aboard the ship. Danse must not have noticed her come in while he was working – she spent the majority of her time down in the airport lately, supervising the construction of the gantry. 

Lancer Morgan put on a show of looking offended at the notion, clutching imaginary pearls in faux shock. 

“Well, I never! Is that what you think of me, sir? Why, I happen to be Proctor Ingram's fav-or-ite lancer!” 

The statement prompted Ingram to roll her eyes at the both of them, while he noticed Knight Carter had walked into the maintenance bay. She seemed to light up when she spotted them, letting herself drift in their direction. It did not escape Danse's notice that the woman had a box of fancy lads with her. 

“Morgan, that’s because I can’t ever get you to leave this damn grease pit. You’re only my favorite because I don’t have any other options.” 

“Well, shoot, now I really am offended,” he grumbled before turning to greet the blissfully unaware knight that had joined them. “Evenin’, miss Diana,” Morgan added, making sure to turn and send a pointed wink and a smug grin in Danse’s direction. 

“Anyway,” Ingram continued, completely dismissive of the lancer and knight to her side, “no, there’s nothing wrong with a little playful banter, Danse. It’s nice to occasionally be treated like a human being.” 

“Proctor, decorum dictates...” 

“Don’t ‘Proctor’ me - decorum has nothing to do with it, Paladin. You can’t tell me you’ve_ never _ flirted with a pretty girl to get something.” 

No, he hadn’t. He preferred the direct approach when he wanted something – just ask for it and move on. Now, however, he was being challenged pretty deliberately by Morgan, whose eyes seemed to be gleaming devilishly back at Danse while he stood next to his knight. 

It was getting to him, in much the same way that Cutler used to get under his skin, and well...Carter did have snack cakes... 

This entire conversation was ridiculous. The last time he’d even bothered with this nonsense was years ago when Cutler was still around, after some whiskey and a dare from his friend. That was the last lesson anyone had try to teach him in flirting, and Cutler was trying to coach him on something he referred to as “the smolder”. 

Danse had overthought the move and messed it up spectacularly, somehow managing to spill liquor on some poor woman's shirt while Cutler fought to contain his laughter next to him. The smooth talker offered to buy another round as consolation for the blunder, and never really let Danse live that one down. 

Fine, he would do it, if only in memory of his closest friend. How did Cutler say to do this, again? 

_ Sigh. _

Step one, look down at the ground. Step two, quirk the corner of your lips up in a smirk...he was overthinking this again. 

_ Stop thinking, soldier. Just remember. _

_ “Slowly lift your gaze to the eyes of your target. There we go!” _ He could nearly hear Cutler’s voice in his head back at the bar, giving him directions. _ “Oh, and the most important part, make sure to look at them from under your lashes, Danse, that’ll make ‘ _ _ em _ _ swoon." _

He was transported back out of the Muddy Rudder and onto the Prydwen, and certainly seemed to be holding Carter’s attention. 

“Depends, Ingram. Does the pretty girl have snack cakes?” 

He wasn’t sure if he’d gotten the “smolder” right this time or if he completely fumbled it again, considering Morgan and Ingram were now slack-jawed and completely unhelpful. 

“I...um...I...” Carter’s breath snagged as she stumbled to form a coherent sentence, cheeks flushing scarlet. It was all she could manage just to hold the box of fancy lads out in front of her and try to catch her breath. “I...I think I have to...I need to report to...someone...” 

Strange thing to say, since he was the one she generally reported to. She took off in the direction of the stairwell while Danse looked on, prized snack cakes now in hand. 

It never took long for Morgan to shake off a surprise, and he was now in stitches next to Ingram. “Wrong way, Knight! Command deck’s the other way!” he called, devolving into another fit of laughter. 

“_Shut up, Morgan!” _she snarled, halting her retreat to glare at the lancer from over the guardrails on the floor above. Her eyes flicked back to Danse and she took off again. 

“Jeez, Danse. I didn’t think you had it in you,” Ingram murmured once the knight was out of the picture again, her own shock beginning to subside. “That poor girl didn’t stand a chance.” 

_ Poor girl? _

“Well now, sir, I think you done broke Carter.” 

_ Broke_ Carter? 

The paladin looked on in the direction that Carter had taken off in, his own cheeks going pink and eyes going wide. 

He swallowed. _The smolder worked. _

Goddamnit. Danse needed to go apologize to his knight._ Profusely. _Talk about a major abuse of rank - this was exactly what he had meant when he mentioned decorum. There were protocols for a reason. 

If Danse was being completely honest with himself, it really did feel like a small victory to be holding the box of cakes. And, once he'd left the Proctor and the Lancer behind to go after his knight, he may have grinned to himself.

_ Take that, Cutler. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was saving this for later, but fuck it. Have it now.  
This isn't even canon within my own story, and yet, I have no regrets.


	3. (Im)Patience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys is a tease, and Haylen may just kill him for it.  
Nsfw? Nsfw.

Patience: (n) The capacity to accept or tolerate delay, trouble, or suffering without getting angry or upset. 

Rhys’s girl had a lot of virtues, but patience sure as hell wasn’t one of them, and today, he was taking full advantage of that knowledge. 

Everyone at the station had been so busy lately. Doing recon. Fortifying the station. Trapping rats (_ugh_). Between the personnel posted here and then the other Brotherhood patrols that sometimes passed through looking for shelter or ammo, the place was just never quiet. And with the war starting to ramp up? Well, scans were comin’ in left and right. 

Today was different. Today was actually a little laid back - the only people hanging around were him and Haylen, working on the spotlight system. Well, okay, there was also the damn warden, but he was pretty much always in the jailroom so Rhys didn’t give a shit. 

Today was going to be fun, because he knew exactly which of Haylen’s buttons to push. Was he going to piss her off? Yeah, probably a little. Get her all worked up? 

Oh,_ hell _yeah. At least, that was the plan. 

He spotted her coming down the stairs while he was on his way back up to the rooftop with a box of tools. Perfect. 

“What, you getting lonely up there, scribe? I wasn’t even gone five minutes.” 

“Oh, you wish. I was just going to go wire up the -” 

He didn’t give her the chance to finish that sentence. Instead, he moved in – lifting her, hiking her legs up around his waist and pushing her against the wall. Giving her time to catch her breath wasn’t even an option because of those_ plans _he had_._ Soon as he had her where he wanted her, their bodies pressed up close together, he crushed his lips against hers and she gasped - just a little. 

It had been a couple weeks since the last time they’d managed to sneak off, after all. 

He let his tongue slip into her mouth and the very second he felt her start to melt into him wanting more, he set her right back down. 

He smirked. 

“Welp, catch you later.” 

“What the - Rhys?” 

The frustrated sound she made when he turned tail and continued up to the roof was enough for him. Oh, this game was going to be fun. 

* * *

** Work Log PDR33-145 **

Type: Install   
Status: Completed   
Completed By: Haylen HN-118FS; Rhys RS-104K   
Item: External Spotlight System   
  
At Knight Rhys's suggestion, several high-powered security spotlights have been added to various strategic points on the exterior of the police station. The lights tend to deter attacks from Ferals and will…|…|

Haylen was nearly finished typing up her log for the morning's work when she felt hands trace up her back and over her shoulders, soon followed by a warm breath whispering to her. 

“Almost done there, Scribe?” 

Rhys’s low voice in her ear had her trying to fight off a chill that ran down her spine. 

“I might be, if you’d leave me alone for two minutes,_ Knight_.” 

She might be a little bit annoyed, but only because of how unfair he was being. She turned her head back to give him a dirty look and Rhys had the nerve to chuckle. 

“You really want me to leave you alone?” 

_ No. _

He was brave anyway, but with most of the station sent out on missions, today he was irritatingly so. All throughout their job putting up those extra spotlights, every opportunity that he had to mess with her in some way, he took. 

With no warning, he’d pinned her up when he passed her in the stairwell earlier - going in for a messy kiss and nearly stealing the breath from her lungs. And just as soon as he’d started, he just took off like nothing had happened. 

He’d been doing these things for hours. It was like he was looking for excuses to walk past her. Every time he did, he’d whisper something to her, or touch her, or one time he just looked at her and _ grinned _from across the roof. 

Okay so maybe it wasn’t just a grin. The obscene _ -obscene!- _ stroking gesture he had made with that _smug_ grin of his flashed through her mind, and _oh _that chill she had tried to fight was back. 

The hands that had been ghosting over her shoulders moved downwards, trailing down her sides to settle on her waist, and one slipped around front to drag nails up her thigh. She felt her skin flush. 

Empty station or not, they were in the front room. This man had no shame, whatsoever. 

“Listen up, bucko, if you touch me one more time while I’m trying to finish this up, I'll-” 

“You'll what?” 

Haylen decided to ignore him and keep typing up her work log, despite him inching even closer... 

|...|...provide additional visibility should the station come…|…|

...catching her up against the desk, where she could feel his length against her, all the while reading over her shoulder. 

“Come?” he teased, pulling her hat off and tossing it onto the desk, then the hood. Once that was off, she tilted her head to the side by instinct, giving him access to her neck. 

_ Crap. _

She didn’t mean to do that, or at the very least she hadn’t thought it through. 

Haylen’s eyes fluttered shut for a second when his lips grazed upwards over the bare skin to nibble at her ear, and she had to swallow a moan. 

“_Under fire…” _she corrected, trying to keep her voice even as she worked. 

“Mhm. _Sure_.” 

God. Her cheeks were burning at this point, and she could feel her skin prickle with warmth where he’d been tracing up her thigh and her side. He reached around to tilt her chin up for what should have been a kiss, except that he didn’t follow through and _ kiss her. _

He just held her there close to him, brow quirked up and his lips pulled into a smirk. 

“I guess I’ll let you get back to it, then, since you want to be left alone.” 

He barely let his lips brush hers. Wait, was he – was he seriously_ walking away again!? _By God, she was going to kill him. 

She glanced back at the terminal and sucked in a breath. This was going to have to wait. 

* * *

Oh, yeah, Haylen’s patience was definitely gone. It didn’t take her yanking him through the station by the strap for Rhys to clue in on that one. As soon as she got that door to the clinic shut and locked behind them, she was on him – quick fingers working through all of the buttons and zips on his suit to pull it down to his waist, hands working their way up across his chest and over his shoulders. 

“Off,” she demanded, tugging at the collar of the shirt he wore under his suit. 

“You trying to give me orders?” he teased, but she wasn’t having any more of it. Turns out that while he still had that shirt on, she still had something to grab on to and pull him down with, leaving them only inches apart. 

“You want to try me?” 

“Kinda,” he mumbled, finally bringing his lips to hers. Oh man, the fury in the kiss that came after his smartass remark was something else. He tried to tame her fire a little by drawing slow kisses from her, but she wasn’t putting up with any of that, either. 

Instead, she had turned the tables, sucking on his bottom lip and catching it between her teeth, leaving him groaning into her mouth when she bit down. 

_ Fuck. _

Shirts came off and got tossed haphazardly onto the floor and she was pushing him back toward the closest bed, then climbing up into his lap when he sat down on it. He slipped one hand around her back to unclasp her bra, then the other up through her hair to get that band out of it. She let out the softest groan when he pulled at it to get her to tilt her head back, baring that beautiful neck of hers for him. 

Perfect for kissing. 

Perfect for licking. 

Perfect for nipping at, then going a little lower to bite at and mark her up. She arched her back when he got the skin between his teeth, leaving a little mark on her collarbone. He leaned to trace little nips and licks further down, taking a hard nipple between his lips to lick and tease at. 

Impatient little thing dug her nails into the back of his neck and ground her hips into his, desperate to get some friction after he’d been bugging her all day. Suited him just fine. He figured it was about time he was nice to her. 

* * *

In one fluid motion, Rhys had lifted Haylen and traded places with her, pinning her against the mattress beneath him. She let out a surprised yelp and Rhys clapped a hand over her mouth, leaning in close to press lips to her ear. 

“_Shhh__. _ Walker’s still here, remember?” he warned. 

Fair point. He still wanted to play games, though? 

She nipped at his palm and he removed it, giving her a chance to take his hand and move it down lower. He took his sweet time, massaging over her thighs, hooking a finger through the waistband of her pants to tease her some more. 

This was taking too long. 

She had been waiting around all day, so she decided to help him out. She snaked her hand down between them and unbuttoned her pants herself, then took his hand with hers to slip beneath the fabric still there. She worked her hips against his hand while he traced her clit, finally getting some of the friction she had been aching for, but it still wasn’t _ enough. _

_ So,_ she pushed his hand lower until he got the hint and slid one finger inside of her. She nudged his hand again. A soft, wet _squish_ sounded when he slipped in another. 

She let out a soft whine while he crooked his fingers inside of her. This, she could work with, and she moved her hips to match his rhythm. 

“Christ,” he breathed, and she pushed herself harder against him. “_Christ, _ you’re wet. _ ” _

“Mm-hmm,” she purred. “I think you should get that suit off -” 

“Yeah?” 

“_Nnnh_, yes.” She could feel the heat already beginning to pool between her thighs. 

_ Crap. Not yet. _

“Why’s that?” 

God, his voice, though. 

He leaned back to yank her pants off and slide his suit the rest of the way down with the question, and she couldn’t help but lick her lips when she saw his cock straining against his briefs. It felt like it took him an hour to work them down his hips before he was finally free. “You want something?” 

There was that obscene gesture, again. She watched through heavy lidded eyes while he stroked himself a couple of times and she _ ached _. He chuckled when he lowered himself back over her, teasing at her lips with his tip, coating himself with her wetness. 

“All you gotta do is ask.” 

“Rhys, I swear-” 

“Shh._ Ask. _” 

Haylen wanted him._ Now. _At this point he was almost being mean. “Please?” 

“I don’t know, babe, I don’t think you want it bad enough...” 

OH, that was it. She’d had it. She hooked her legs around his waist and forced her hips up to his, grinding the best she could against his cock with what little leverage she had. 

“Damn. Alright-” she dug her nails into his shoulders to bring him down. “_Alright._ Yes, ma’am.” 

His breath hitched while he slid into her slowly, inch by inch until he was finally, _finally_ buried in her. She tried not to moan when they began to work their hips together, and he brought his lips to hers to quiet her. 

She sucked at his lip, and he moved his hand down between her thighs to tease her clit. 

_ Mmmm, there._

She rolled her hips into his again and he groaned into her mouth. “More,” she rasped. “Please?” 

He snapped his hips into hers, and her hand clawed its way down his back so she could grasp at his ass, keeping him close. “More?” 

All she could do was nod while he thrusted. She nipped at his shoulder to fight back the whining noises that she could barely contain. He apparently liked that, because he had to muffle his own groan against her neck. 

“_Nnnnnh_, harder.” 

_ Harder? _ The bite? She took the skin between her teeth and gave it a gentle test. He nodded. She found that the harder she bit - 

He snapped their hips together, again. 

\- the harder he’d thrust. Deeper. 

_ And then harder. _

With just the right amount of pressure. She lost herself in the feeling, soon devolving into a writhing mess beneath him. He had to press his lips to hers, again, swallowing her moans. The pace quickened and they worked their bodies together furiously, the warmth in her core finally beginning to build again. 

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” Oh, god his _ voice _ . Still, all she could do was nod. She was right on the edge with the circles he was still tracing on her clit, and she could feel herself tightening around him. She was so _ dizzy. _ He pulled his hand from between her legs, sticking a finger in her mouth where she could taste her wetness. 

Oh. Oh,_ crap. _That did it. She threw her head back and Rhys had to cover her mouth to keep her quiet while she pulsed around him. 

“_Fuck.” _He hissed. He buried his head in the crook of her neck to suppress his own groan when he pulled out and spilled himself on her stomach. After a moment of shaky breaths, he rolled off of her to find something to clean her off, settling for his own shirt since he didn’t want to dig through the drawers. He climbed back into the cot next to her and pulled her close to rest her head against his chest. 

It was nice, they rarely had the time for it. 

“So, you still hate me?” he asked, stroking her hair. 

“Hate you? No, but you_ are_ an ass.” 

He chuckled. “An ass, huh?” 

“Mhm,” she tilted her head to give him a sweet kiss. “But you’re_ my _ ass.” 

“Yeah. Always will be.” He cleared his throat, suddenly not wanting to meet her eye. “Haylen, I-” he let out a sigh and kissed her forehead, mumbling something about having to get back to work. 

She watched him leave while she pulled her own clothes back on, staying behind to sanitize her clinic. 

Always, huh? She smiled to herself while she tugged messy sheets from the cot. Well, she certainly couldn’t hate him now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't entirely know what to say for myself, other than I'm sorry that I've not yet gotten to the plot-important smut.  
I haven't done smut before, so...  
Have some practice smut!
> 
> I, uh, hope it was worth waiting for. I know it's probably not the 'practice smut' pairing some of you are looking for, but I haven't been kind enough to Haylen in the main story.  
Frankly, I can only get less bad the more I write.


	4. Damn Cat

With all that had happened through the night, it may very well take some time for Danse to fall asleep. He’d already made his way to the showers post-meeting, and then made the trek back through the ship to his quarters. Jameson, the mess hall officer, had given him a second look when he'd passed through in civilian clothes, waiting patiently for his uniforms to dry. He wasn’t too keen on the idea of having another weeks’ worth of filth built up on his clothes by the time he’d make it back to base.

Danse paused the maintenance he was now doing on his razor and examined his face in the small mirror he kept stored away. He’d kept a beard for as long as he could remember. 

He chuckled. The only exception was when he had first moved to Rivet City. He’d no idea what proper beard maintenance entailed, so at that point, he generally took the whole thing off when it got to be too much of a nuisance. Aside from that, he didn’t always have the caps to pay a barber for it. 

Cutler had been the one to show him how to work with a straight razor, how to maintain a shape. In fact, it was Cutler’s razor that he kept and still used, wrapped in cloth and stored neatly in a cigar box. 

_ “The scruff suits you.” _

For the life of him, Danse couldn’t remember who it was that had told him that. Oddly enough, it wasn’t Cutler, but someone from before. Most from “before” were just passing faces, nobody he’d remember. Whoever it had been though, the statement had struck a chord and he’d agreed with them. 

The state his facial hair was in now, though? This wasn’t going to cut it. He’d been away long enough that it was becoming a nuisance. 

_ “What was Cutler like?” _

He’d have been glad to tell Diana more, if she’d asked. Cutler spent much of his time walking the line between “scoundrel” and “miscreant”, boisterous and outgoing and full of zeal. He had somehow just decided to sort of...adopt Danse, after they'd met. Show him the ropes. Cutler had taught him quite a bit, actually, including showing him how to use this damn razor. He carefully ran his thumb along the edge to test it. 

It was ready. 

_ “He’ll always be with you as long as you remember.” _

Poignant, coming from a woman who knew so little of herself. 

He brought the blade to his face and remembered a conversation he’d had with Cutler. 

_ “That’s it. You’ve got the hang of it. Now you won’t look like some scavver, anymore.” _

_ Danse snorted at the comment. “Doesn’t change the fact that I am one.” _

_ “Hey. No. We open our stand tomorrow. We’re not just scavengers now, Danse. We’re businessmen.” _

_ “Businessmen that still scavenge the ruins for junk.” _

_ “Junk to sell. At least until we start getting more traders in.” _

_ “So, that would make us glorified scavvers.” _

_ Cutler raised his flask to the comment and laughed. “To being glorified scavvers, then!” _

Glorified scavver, indeed. Especially since he was wearing an old t-shirt and flannel while his uniforms dried. He almost always had a spare uniform handy, but if he was going to make any attempt to fall asleep, a pair of blue jeans was easier to get into and out of than a flight suit. 

_ Ah. _

The hot towel on his face did feel nice, and besides, Danse somewhat enjoyed getting lost in the ritual. At least, when he had the spare time. He also didn’t have an electric trimmer like the scribes did. 

With his razor and face now prepped, he started with the neckline. One of the easiest ways to look clean and well-maintained was to tame the stray hairs that went too far down. You just measure to the adam’s apple, and take your razor - 

A smooth swipe downwards. 

“Always let the weight of the razor do the work for you.” 

He continued on with that before he moved on to the scissors. He generally didn’t like for it to get too long, and so trimmed the hair in layers meticulously. And, if he was going to be back in the field, he could take it slightly shorter. 

He had just gotten the length right on one side when Emmett decided to come and pay him a visit. The cat made his presence known with the loudest of yowls, and Danse held off for long enough to provide him with a treat and a couple of ear scratches. His fuzzy friend seemed content, for now. 

He remained happy while Danse took the scissors and trimmed the other side of his face, he remained happy while Danse trimmed a few too-long moustache hairs. The cat was happy all the way up until Danse pulled out the razor again. All he had left to do was shape the hairs along his chin when he got the warning growl from the cat. 

“Hold on just for a moment, buddy. Then I can -” 

Hold on? No. Not Emmett. Damn cat wasn’t patient enough to wait for two whole minutes. Emmett wanted to be pet immediately, and batted at Danse’s arm for the attention. When Danse didn’t provide that attention, he got pushier, going in to claw for that affection mid-razor-swipe. A claw caught on Danse’s sleeve and his arm got pulled down with the added weight. 

Danse stared at his reflection in the mirror. The cat had used enough force that Danse now had a sizeable chunk of his beard missing, right in the middle of his chin. 

A sizeable chunk – there was very, very little hair left on his chin at all, and he’d even nicked himself in one spot where he began to bleed. Danse lifted a hand to the now-bare spot on his face. 

He couldn’t work with this. What was he supposed to do, just keep the moustache and the jawline? Or perhaps just the moustache. He thought about it for a moment, but no, he felt it would look strange. He could have at least kept the goatee if Emmett had swiped at him while he was shaping his cheek. 

“You,” he grumbled to the cat, “ought to learn some restraint.” Danse sighed and reached a hand out to give the cat some more ear scratches, but in true Emmett fashion, he was no longer interested in Danse’s attention. Instead, the cat stared straight through him, flicking his tail back and forth before he jumped down from the tabletop and stalked from the room. 

Damn cat. 

If he was unrecognizable in civilian clothes, he could do undercover missions, now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dunno if you could tell by now, but I looooove soft Danse and Cutler friendship headcanons. Relationship headcanons, too, if that's the school of thought you subscribe to. If it is soft and it involves those two, gimme that headcanon. I like 'em all, they make me weak in the knees.
> 
> Also, regardless of being sort of plot relevant, it did not fit in well with [ the chapter it was written for ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20152882/chapters/55355701). So please, enjoy some Danse and Emmett shenanigans


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